You Think This Happens Every Day
by elizabethswannrox
Summary: In the Novel the Princess Bride, Buttercup, after finally having realized after years that the poor farm boy she had always mocked was her true love, mustered up the courage to go to his hovel in the middle of the night and confess it. And he slammed the door in her face not admitting his feeling until the next morning. Here is if he had responded different.A very different night.


She was Buttercup, and he, without a second thought, was of course her sweet, dearest Westley. Her farm boy with eyes that captivated and a gentle yet chiseled body from working so long at daily, hard laboring. Her love that would travel oceans for her if the need arose and whom even a day without was an equivalent to years of her own life drained until his lips could come along once again and breath in the life he had given her.

In the book she had come along to his hovel door after a nights tumbling around, unable to catch even a glimpse of sleep without seeing him there behind her closed lids. Not a seconds clear thought before she could hear his voice melting her name, drifting through her ears. And, though more reluctant than she had ever been before to admit anything, she was able to give up and realize why this had come along. She was fighting something that had been put off for years but can only be restrained for so long before fate steps its hands in and takes the reigns from your powerless hands. True love. She loved him. She loved him with every fiber of her. With every inch of her mind, her body, her soul, she wanted him to fill her to overflowing, to drink of his presence and never again be parched of anything. And so she had gone to his hovel. She had confessed herself, poured all she had, all she was and cared to be out in a vulnerable puddle where her heart sat waiting. And he had slammed the door on it. It was not until the next morning he came to admit it had only been his shock and that he did love her, more than she could possibly imagine. Well, that was all well and good, but there could be a much more ideal situation. One where her confession did not have a waiting period of respite and worry and where it was instead immediately taken into account. A scene more ideal, more in character for the two of them, deciding that the author had simply made a horrible mistake and must have accidentally published the thing instead of what he wrote on what had really happened, and was simply so despondent after the mistake that he didn't bother going back to fix it. Well, may as well help him out by acknowledging what was really meant to happen. It was the least that could be done. And so Buttercup would still be going to his hovel. And yes, she would still confess her love. And she would still then return to her house after. But much later. Much, much later... And he would in turn confess his affections. But sooner. Much, much sooner...

Just as it should be. She lay under the covers of the bed, tossing around, throwing them off occasionally. No matter how hard she tried, how hard she shook her head, there remained one thing there, getting louder and clearer moment by moment. _Westley...Westley...WESTLEY WESTLEY WESTLEY_. This was not right; she couldn't think this, she hated him, despised him, mocked him night and day and tormented him relentlessly. There was nothing even remotely attractive about his face and the way it had shaped recently in these past few years to accentuate his soft lips and show a fine line of his cheek bones that influenced his calming eyes that could stop a ship from sinking on a vast ocean. Nothing at all pleasing about the way his slender yet hardened muscles could be outlined visibly when he chopped the wood for their fire place and the way his hands held the axe in such a way it showed that his fingers were capable yet careful. And there was absolutely, above all, nothing so wonderful that she could feel her heart leap to her ears when she watched his tongue articulate the words he responded with to her bidding. _As you wish_. 'I wish this would stop...' She thought. She could not think of any possible explanation. And so she pondered and she tried, and still there was nothing. And then she stopped thinking. Allowed the reason to come to her on its own. And without searching for the obvious, it finally hit her with such force she felt as though she had been trampled by a full grown mare. She gasped for the use of her lungs, finding the wind had somehow been knocked from her, though she must have just forgotten to breath. After all, how could her body handle such a realization and still remember something so complex as breathing. No, it was simple. Breathing was simple. As simple as the truth. She loved him. Her body was made with an emptiness that could only be whole when his skin met hers and her heart was hollow and waiting to be filled by the sweet flow of his very being. She had been made for him. It was no wonder she had hardly been truly happy even one time in her life other than when she was ordering him around. It was the interactions with him, though she had not noticed, that had kept her going day by day. She wondered how much fuller her heart could be with all of this potential. If that was when she commanded things of him, how much more immensely great could the pleasure be from actually being able to fully and consciously love him. There was no greater joy in her life up to this point, and now she felt as though she had been opened to the truth of her existence. And it lay sleeping just 50 feet from her own door. Something must be done. This was too much to be kept in until morning...

She stepped out into the frigid night air. It whipped at her thin nightshirt and, though the buttons all down the back where securely together, the cold still blew through her like an icy river. For the spring time, the temperature was hardly friendly. Quick as she could, she ran the short distance between the doors, bare feet careful not to trip over anything in the dark. Finally, her short sprint led her to the little wooden door that was the old wooden plank keeping the heat in a tiny home as much as possible. This was the last barrier she had to cross before there were none. They were going to fix this story. She found herself clamming up, becoming so nervous there was hardly a distinction between her duty here and her fears. They were one and the same, and fate rested on her shoulders. She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. Silence for a few moments, and then the rustling of sheets could be hear muffled inside. She could barely hear his footsteps coming closer over the drumming of her heart beating out sound and making her lungs fill. She did not release her air, couldn't seem to, until it all came out in one loud gasp of words upon seeing him confusedly open his door to reveal her standing there. "I LOVE YOU." She took a moment to let that sink in. To both of them. Then she continued expertly prattling off the speech she had hoped would not just erupt in a jumble of words. His shock and surprise was genuine. This was his Buttercup. Finally, she finished. If the book was continued on with here, he would have slammed the door directly in her face. But this was the preferred reality. And so they would have it. As they wished.

She stood there then, panting from the release and the heart which had not slowed down and, for the first time, looked at him. Really got a good look at him. His mouth stood slightly agape adorably on his handsome features. His collarbones stood out from the long, thin tunic he had left open so his chest, his stomach was laid bare to her eyes. His loose brown canvas pants reached his knees, leaving the rest of his legs bellow that exposed to the night air. And he, in turn, took her in with his eyes that for years had only been for her. He admired the way the wind twisted through her hair the way his fingertips twitched to, her thick waves rolling around her shoulders and whipping in the breeze. This wind seemed to be mocking him, touching her in ways he longed to, he noticed, as it ruffled the edges of her nightdress. There was a way he could touch her, though, far deeper than that wind had power to, he realized, as her intense eyes bore into his own. A way far more intimate and meaningful and proving of the truth of strong-founded love and faith than a breeze could hope to achieve. With his words.

"Buttercup... have you any idea. You know, for all the years I have worked here it was all I could do to control myself from saying anything to you. Do you know, have you any idea, how fiercely I have loved you form a far every single day since your existence has come known to me? Do you know, Buttercup, how could you know... but do you? You must understand what you have said to me. You say from the time you realized you loved me it has grown at an alarming rate every second to the point where you do not think it possible to raise higher, but it does, and yet at its peak it does not stop, only keeps going. And when did you realize this? An hour ago? Less? Imagine, if you can, having had that begin years ago; more every moment of the day for each one that went by. And think how much you would love me then. Then open your eyes to see that if you expand that by at least 3, that is exactly what I have lived with since my eyes were first introduced to you. This is the manner in which my heart exists. I love you Buttercup. Deeply and fiercely and truly and far more than you yourself, however hard it may be for you to admit it, could ever even dream...and now that I've said it... you may have a hard time of getting me to stop. Though I have told you everyday. Do you see now? That is what I have been saying. And now...as it was then and has been... though I do not know what happens next, I know it is as you wish. That's what it was Buttercup, what it means. I love you."

Her mouth suddenly went dry and her jaw slightly slacked. All she could do was shiver. The cold and the deep, inquisitive eyes across from her made her lack from thought. He noticed for the first time just how cold she must be, and it pained him more than it did herself to see her uncomfortable. "You must be freezing...you should go inside." Her heart sunk slightly. "Oh, well, if you think it best," she nodded and turned to walk back to where she had come from, but she had hardly made it a quarter inch before a strong, labor-worn hand grabbed her forearm with desperate delicacy. "No. It's very dark, the moon isn't offering much light for you to see your way back with. Besides, you've been out here too long as it is. I think it best..." he gulped, willing himself to finish his sentence. "I think it best you come inside." She nodded slightly, hardly believing her situation. She then took a step closer to him, closing the gap to about 5 inches between the two of them. Tentatively, her fingertips reached out to his chest which lay bare in the minimal moonlight. When they met his skin, she noticed him tense slightly, which made her smile. The length of her fingers, then her whole open-palmed hand brushed his warmth and rested on his heart, which was keeping its unnatural pace with hers. Westley and Buttercup had never touched like this before. The effect was invigorating. He felt her hand brushing under the fabric which was flopped to the side, and her skin greeted his with a rush of electricity, setting a fire running through the veins of her arm to her heart while his heart practically engulfed in flames and spread at an alarming rate to drop down through every inch to his toes. She then looked up, noticing his sweet breath coming out in whisps onto her forehead, which she hadn't realized had become so close in proximity. He noticed her distinct scent, unlike any other; her hair teasingly playing at his nose, filling him with the intoxicating aroma while she equally fought to remember anything on this earth to compare his scent to and failed miserably, marking it completely unique and overwhelming. Their eyes locked in their own intimate embrace, reading each other as they opened themselves to one another in a way only two souls created to connect with only each other can seem to manage, discovering an ocean of unspoken stories waiting to be written. Then the sight of their eyes blurred from view as their lids swept closed by instinct. His hand that had grabbed her forearm now cradled her elbow, holding her firmly so her feet were planted where, when her body swooned and swayed toward him in their embrace, their legs brushed each other. His other hand grasped her cheek, his thumb below her jaw, cupping her face and bringing it to his. "Yes," she whispered before their lips could meet. "You will come in?" His breath came out of him and into her in the inch their mouths were seperated. "As." she placed her lips briefly on his nose. "You" his jaw. "Wish." This time, before she had hardly gotten the last sound out, he could wait no longer. He pulled her face into his and the two pairs of lips finally met. At first there was hesitance, but a split second later, as if they sensed they had been made to connect with one another, they melted further into each other. She applied pressure to his mouth with her own, quickly applying harder then releasing softly over and over again as if massaging his lips with her own. She felt his hand knit itself into her hair and the other wrap around her waist, tugging once to pull her body to his, her chest pressed to him and standing so each of them had on leg of the others' between their own. She could not help breathing a slight groan of pleasure and sheer joy in so pure a moment as she had never felt the rush of before, a noise which sent flashes through him. Her head tilted further to the side as she felt his mouth open slightly. Slowly, she continued to open and close his mouth with hers, her soft lips brushing and massaging his with blind knowledge and faith in each other. She felt her head and his tilt further, giving him even more access to the shared space between their mouths. Then, almost accidentally, though it could hardly be helped at this point, her tongue brushed along his lower lip. He froze for a moment. Then, slowly, pushed his own forward so it rolled along hers. She stood frozen too. Now no part of them dared move but her tongue, which drew a circle in a teasing pace all around his own, coaxing it further. He then pushed just a bit more, moving his into the space of her mouth, here they shared in an intimate dance where their tongues chased each other, playing, discovering. Hers, then, prodded gently into his own space with his, sliding it along the roof of his mouth and drawing it along the back of his teeth. She then managed to draw his back to her, where she sucked on it tenderly before releasing. Both of them felt their ragged breath on each other and connected hearts pounding through her nightdress's sheer fabric. They both shuddered against each other and it wasn't until that moment that they realized the door was still open. "You know," he managed, clearing his throat, "It's much warmer over there." He nodded toward a very small, cozy looking bed with a thick, inviting woolen blanket big enough to drape over the two of them. She, still having a hard time looking at him after that little venture just yet, nodded vigorously. "The ground is cold, though. Let me take you there. My feet are used to the cold dirt floor, yours are not." She wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to pick her up like the blushing bride she was surely now destined to become. With one foot, he kicked closed the door to most of the outside chill before carrying her over to his bed. The covers were still at the foot of it from when he had hastily gotten up to answer the knocking she had so urgently been producing minutes before. He bent down now, laying her upon the bed he had always pictured her in and could now hardly believe he was truly seeing the sight of with his own eyes open. She smiled up at him, coaxing him toward her without thinking, one arm laying above her head, hair spread around her as her position and the faint moonlight peaking though the window gave him a view of her figure he had so often caressed the thought of. Not able to bear distance any longer, he slid in next to her, taking the blanket and bringing it up to cover them both. Her back was to the wall he was facing, and they lay on their sides facing each other.

Just then he felt the foot of her left leg gliding up and down his calf with a light touch. He held his breath as it went higher, further, feeling it's way to his knee, his upper thigh, then glide along behind his legs as it wrapped around him. Her hand, this whole time, was trailing one finger starting at his belly button to the soft skin on his heart, leaving over whelming liquid ice stemming from every vein inside of him. "You've no idea. No idea how long my thoughts have dared in my wildest fantasies to put us right where we are now," he breathed, his voice moving her hair where his lips rested just above her ear. She nodded. It was about all she could do right now. "Oh, Buttercup..." he slid his other leg in between hers, brushing the fabric of her dress so that it raised up higher without meaning for it to, pushed aside so his leg was held between both of hers and swimming in the same fabric. She felt him on her skin, felt him everywhere he had touched and everywhere he hadn't yet ventured. Her left hand slipped under the back on his open tunic and ran along his spine until it reached his neck, where, when it touched, he shivered visibly and it rocked her as well. She kneaded the skin and tensed muscle there slightly as his right arm wrapped around her waist, suddenly pulling her to him so that every square inch of the front of their bodies, and some of the back, were pressed to each other. Her pulse rippled through his bare chest, setting his senses on fire. Her mouth was now at his ear "Westley... my dear Westley. I believe I am quite entirely in love with you." Her voice quivered with certainty. She then blew gently into his ear with a staggering trail of soft air, then kissed his earlobe and lowered her face to the nape of his neck, where she once again let a string of air out along in a line, chilling and exciting him. Soon his lips found hers again and, as they continued to discover each other in this way, their hands, too, also ventured exploration. Her hand that had been weaving absentmindedly through his hair now took off to memorize every curve and bend and structure of his body. Though she found the worn white fabric was beginning to get in the way. Gently, not even opening her eyes, refusing to let their lips part at this moment in time, she clutched his back and began to roll so that he lay directly on top of her, under the sheets that engulfed them both. He pulled back, sitting up so that their hips pressed into each others', his legs on either side of her softly trembling body, his arms supporting his upper body to look down at her. Her hands then slid up his muscled stomach, up to the sensitive area of his chest, rubbing slightly and just enough to elicit a tiny moan and overwhelmed smile from him. Neither of them had any idea what the effect of the hands of the other was to them. Then the path of her hands differed to his shoulders, where they began to slide the sleeves of his open nightshirt off, exposing more bare, slightly goose-bumped skin. He got her message and sat up on her laying down figure, his hips pressing slightly harder into her with one leg on either side, and removed the intrusive tunic, tossing it forgotten clear on the other side of the room. She was breathless at the chiseled arms, chest, stomach...everything. And all of it was made for hers, fit to a breath of perfection. All she could do was look at him, feel him on top of her while like wise he was looking down into her bewildered and overtaken eyes. She swore he must be able to see her heart spiking through the slight fabric of her cream colored nightgown. She slid her hands up his back, now void of any cloth, of any layer between their contacting skin. She opened her hand all the way, feeling every inch with her palm and fingertips, keeping one on the small of his back, the other massaging his neck. Bringing him down fully on top of her, she pressed slightly harder at the base of his spine, melded them further with each other, his legs and hers intertwining and feeling around each others. Then the hand at the edge of his spine endeavored to new places. It shook ever so slightly as it brushed to the waist band of his loose-fabriced pants, then moved just under it, feeling the new, unfamiliar area of his skin, brushing lightly and carefully making a path all the way around under his waistband in the back. Her hand then came back from under the fabric after a few moments of blissful new contact and held breath from him, then proceeded to trail outside of the fabric resting for a moment on this sensitive area above his legs while she delivered brushed kisses along the most delicate part of his neck, occasionally letting her tongue press against the skin there just slightly while all the while her hand ventured down ward, going until it reached the hem of the short pants at the knees. She then moved her hand underneath, exposing the skin previously hidden under the covers concealing them together. She felt the back of his knee with one gliding finger. He breathed sharply, and so she stopped, frozen. "Yes..." he breathed so she almost couldn't hear him. "Yes..." he nodded, placing his hand on hers, guiding it even further up his leg while she was aflame underneath him. Then, at one point, she had reached the upper most part of his thigh, and began applying pressure with her fingers while simultaneously brushing her lips along his shoulder, then placing a kiss the start of his neck where her tongue peaked out just slightly to draw a circle on his skin. At this moment, he gasped, arching is back, and she feared for a moment she had done something wrong. "Westley... I'm so sorry, are you-" though she never got to finish asking the ridiculous inquiry as in a moment she was interrupted by a fiercely loving pair of lips, thirsting for her own. His hand cupped her cheek and brought her mouth farther into his, needing every bit of it to quench what would never go away. It was enough to have just been looking at her there in his bed, but now this, this was truly a gift and he was surprised he was still conscious to divulge in this incredible joy that was them as what seemed like a single being. They were one together, they always would be now, they had been made to be as such. Her scent swam around him, her taste overwhelmed him as she slid her tongue between his lips, then drew a circle along them with it. A soft, caressing line along his lips, then delving inside where it brushed along his once again. Hers goaded further into his mouth, wrestling playfully with his then allowing his to move both of theirs into her mouth, where he tasted her as it ran the roof of her mouth and slick surface of her radiant teeth. He then felt her move her full lips to his lower one, where his slid between hers and she began a gentle sucking of it that involved her tongue also occasionally nipping past the soft skin before she released. They lay dazed and starry-eyed with overworked lungs as he brushed their lips past each other so they barely touched, sending lightning once again through their veins. He then began to trace her lines with those same lips, along her jaw line and over her cheek kissing lightly in each place. She lifted her head to allow him to kiss her throat and all around her neck, then the collar bone just above the nightgowns neckline. As he kissed her collar bone, he began to massage the back of her neck, causing a slight gasp and light noise from her. Wondering, he decided to press harder, moving his fingers in circles, rubbing with care and attention. Then, all at once, he felt her shake beneath him as she exhaled hard and promptly with a soft kind of loudly breathed moan he had never heard from her before. But he somehow instinctively knew what it meant, knew what he had done, and it made his heart burst with the pleasure of knowing his effect on her was as great as hers was to him. He pulled back slightly, their eyes locked together, while his fingers left the back of her neck and ran under the front neck line of her low collar, feeling the soft skin calling him underneath its covering. However, it was not low enough to be able to move it by her shoulder or any were below. It was then that they simultaneously glanced down. The dress had buttons all along the back, but there were also one or two along the front which, at the moment, were doing little for either of them. She nodded to him with great trust, taking his hand and placing it on the topmost button, which he undid with shaking fingers. She then helped him, her hands working with his, with the second one. His hands then flattened on the skin at her collar bones, gliding up to either sides of her on both of her shoulders, where he now had enough leeway to push the soft cotton away, pulling it down to reveal the radiant skin of her shoulders beneath. He ran his lips along each shoulder, then each collar bone, then hesitated. "Yes..." she voiced as he had earlier, kissing the top of his head which was now just beneath her chin. He brushed his lips down further, further, kissing every inch of the soft skin beneath him, feeling her chest rise and fall with gasping breath beneath his lips that were the cause. He moved aside the dress a few inches so he could press his lips even more to this most sensitive area, sending just as much flame through his veins as was running through hers, their hearts keeping time to a broken metronome while they would both be unsurprised if the bed were not even there and they truly had been floating far above Earth this entire time. He continued to kiss here, as her hands weaved in his hair, feeling his breath, his lips, his tongue against her there. She then felt him turn his head and move more fabric aside, practically giving her a heart palpitation, just so he could place his ear to the skin where her heart resided. He lay there with the soft feeling of the articulations of her chest pillowing his head as she so often did to him, hearing her hummingbird heart as he felt her hand caressing his head, fingers expertly knitting through his hair. "Oh, my sweet farm boy. My Westley," her other hand was soothingly petting the length of the skin of his back, running up and down, up and down to calm any nerves he had and to hope she left a tingling on his skin wherever she touched with her open palm. She was right. "My love..." he was still marveling that he could call her such things so that she actual heard, rather than in the private sanctuary that used to be his mind. There was no hiding there anymore, though, as the doors had opened into a spacious temple with stained glass windows, open to the two of them with nothing between each other to hide and no shadow to conceal it in. The feel of her on every inch of his exposed back sent him exploding. "Buttercup... I was wondering. You seem.. tense." She was confused. It was her humble opinion that her muscles were in fact the only part of her right now that were entirely relaxed, but he seemed insistent while she remained confused. However, there was little she could say as he once again sat up, the remembered feeling of the area of their hips pressing together once again briefly experienced, then grabbed her shoulders lightly and, his legs still on either side of her, turned her around beneath him so she lay on her stomach and he sat pressing down on the part of her between her legs and back that had only recently been discovered by touch. She hardly dared to breath. He, as well, held his breath upon seeing the buttons in front of him, a long string of them that went from the very top of the nightgown and almost all the way down. He bent down, whispering so the air rustled the hairs at the back of her neck and made them, along with every nerve, stand on end, "Just relax... let your body melt." It already had. She was sure she was an electrified puddle in the fabric of the bed. Then her heart pounded into the mattress below her as she felt his capable, if not slightly unsteady fingers move aside her hair to over her shoulder, then unbutton the topmost one at the nape of her neck, afterward kissing there. He went down in this manner, unbuttoning all the way down to where he sat on her, kissing every bit of skin as he exposed it, feeling its smoothness wipe against his lips, all the way down to the dimples at the end of her spine as she writhed lightly beneath him, feeling her body between his legs, where she was moving ever so slightly with jolts of fireworks sparked by his lips. Now that it had been so undone, he swept away the gown to reveal the entirety of the skin beneath him, every line of her back and the shape of her form radiated to him in the darkness. Her shoulder blades, her back, her neck, anything else he could find he took in with his eyes, marveling at the expanse of fair, unclothed skin that beckoned him to touch, to stay. He bent down again to trail his lips along the range of her spine, all the while blowing onto each spot he passed, with every centimeter having the scent and the feel of her against him, rushing through him even more. His hands grasped just above where he sat, working upward, digging carefully into her muscles, pushing and pulling all the way up the length of it, hyper aware that nothing lay in between their pure contact of each others' skin. He was just giving his attention to the middle of her back when she moaned softly, "Harder..." He shivered. "Are you sure, Buttercup?" Her name felt so right on his tongue. She could not control hers to respond and so she simply nodded, eyes half-closed. Giving her these intimate touches made him just as much, if not more so, explosive than the one below receiving them. He rubbed into her with his hands, into her skin that was made for his to feel it against his own, and with each movement he rocked slightly on the place he sat, causing them both to stiffen and release with ecstasy intermediately. Her gasps came at times from his handiwork and finally the loudest came from her as she arched her back with a force from inside her she had never known, followed by a long sigh, melting her into the bed, relaxing him along with it. He adjusted himself, lining up each and every part of himself with her body, and laying down, pressing himself gently onto her so they fit as the one being they created. He could feel the back of her pressing into every single place on the front of him, and he breathed into the dip of her shoulder at her neck. There was something magnificent about the way her exposed back created a layer of flames and liquid nitrogen that healed instead of burned on his entirely bare upper body. Their skins melding naturally and with nothing between them but whatever tingle was explosively trickling along each point of contact, which was most every part of their bodies. His hands slipped around her waist as he pressed his body into hers, and she rose a few inches to meet him, allowing his fingers to glide under her onto the skin of her stomach and upwards to her ribs and back out to her spine, where they traveled up again to her shoulders. After sometime he whispered, "There now. How was that?" As he sat up on her he could hear her response of "Mmmmhhhmmmm..." Slowly, he buttoned up the back, though not quite all the way, so that when he lay back down in a such a position that they faced each other, he could slide one hand around her ribs and slink it into the back of her dress where it rested on her skin, drawing circles and signs. She placed her hand on his heart, feeling it keeping time with hers so fast it almost came out sounding like one constant noise with no beats in between. "Mmm... Westley." She kissed him. In fact, she continued to kiss him with touches of her lips on his so light and tender that it was as if they were melting together and apart several times in a matter of a few seconds, taking small nips and tastes of him, each one soft and barely there, then nearly teasingly sliding her tongue between his slightly parted lips and bringing it back again before he could react with a response. She then blew along his jaw and into his ear, "I am yours. I am yours forever. All I have ever had and all that I am." She came back to his lips, opening them with the one single word, "Yours." Before delving into him even further. He felt her leg wrap around his, and her hand take his own to place it assuredly on her thigh, then her fingers encourage him to slide his hand even further, causing him to be thankful for their closed eyes and dark night to hide his deepening complexion. As his hand slid up, her slid down, down his bare back, down to his waist band, further, under it and slightly further, the two of them blindly reaching the same place on each other at the same time, causing them to react so that they exhaled sharply into each others mouths, only heightening the moment even further. Her head tilted to the side, encouraging the same in him, and they tasted each other, explored each other with their lips and tongues and hands and legs and every little bit in between. As she allowed his hand to massage her innermost thigh, she dared ever so boldly to begin lightly massaging at the skin her fingers had led her to; the extremely sensitive place so recently discovered beneath the fabric in the back and quite below is waistband. He hadn't been expecting that, and their ragged breath trembled in each other.

Her hand, eventually, slipped back to the outside of his trousers once again, running down over the fabric where it had just been and, at its base at the top of the back of his thigh, pulled so that his leg, too, wrapped around hers. Now they could feel the areas all around their hips rub together, each kiss deeper and each movement and close twinning together of their legs in between and around each other pushing this part of them against each other every so often, until they touched with out a backward movement away. His hand was now at the small of her back, holding her into him, her shoulders bare and her collar bones visible from the fabric that had been pushed down by his eager lips, kissing every visible area and some he had to go further to find. She gasped and quietly groaned with a nod into his hair as her hand slid down the length of his leg then back up the front, further, further, further, then glancing over his hip bone which was hardly now distinguishable from her own, until it reached his shoulder. "Westley... Westley..." she choked out his name in labored breath, exploding and invigorated, every part of her bursting.

Finally, she rolled on top of him, gliding her hands along his arms and holding them to the bed they shared. He looked up at her tousled hair and night dress coming down from off of her shoulders, the blanket of the bed they shared barely holding onto her to shield them. She then maneuvered herself so that as she lowered her body down onto him, her hands slid down the length of his arms, fingers meeting fingers and playing with each other as they knit in different ways, her knees holding her up on either side of him, her thighs hugging tight to his hips, which raised slightly, pressing barely more into her as his back arched and his entire body shook for a few moments when she slid her lips don his cheek and blew along his collar bones. She kissed both sides and up his chest, lips massaging him, moving up and down on each space once or twice, even sucking lightly a few times in random, select places. She trailed her kisses along his every inch, across his chest, along his shoulders, down, down, all the way down his stomach, crawling down with her frame each time she got lower. Once her lips where at the bottom of his stomach, her body lay on his legs, her hands wandering from his hips all the way down the sides until they reached the hem at his knees, where they went beneath the fabric and carefully massaged the length of his legs once again, this time along his bare skin. She then placed a last kiss on the top of his waist band below his belly button and, moving her hands back onto the bed, slowly began to kiss her way back up his body, inching upwards as the gentle massaging continued in all of his most sensitive areas. He was completely overwhelmed with his acute senses, keeping on hand on the skin of her back that shone warmth through all of him. She placed one last kiss on the freckle at the top of his chest before he rolled them over once more so that both his hands found their way into her night gown, having been playing with one hand at the buttons and causing quite a few more to come undone, and he slid them around around her skin, wrapping around her waist and clutching her to his chest, her hand lying again on his pumping heart, so much of their skin making contact it was hard to now determine where one began and the other ended. Her arms wrapped around him, one hand making its way around his arm, clutching his shoulder, the other holding the small of his back, drawing circles on it while one of his released her waist and instead cupped her neck to pull her lips to his.

The kisses, experienced at the full potential of touch, started of careful, brushing, playful, curious, then increased in their intensity. As his tongue rolled along her lips, she chased his in circles that pushed each other, urging the other on. She felt his sink beyond her lips, along the roof of her mouth, in a dancing ellipse with her own, deeper and taken back and then deeper again. She sucked lightly and gently on the end of it before letting her own go towards him, to experience each other in every way this moment proved possible. The hand cupping his shoulder now tickled along the back of his neck and up, once again, through his hair, their mouths moving further side ways, her kissing the corners of his lips, then he moving to begin opening and closing them passionately with hers, locked in this embrace.

"You work so hard everyday," she managed after a gasp between kisses. He half listened and nodded, half continued rapidly feeling her with his lips. "My father works you to the bone and I am ashamed I have too... it would be the least I could do to help relieve you if even just a bit," she squeaked as well as she could while swimming in the exaltation he was causing. For a moment her stopped his attentions, looking at her with curiosity. It was then that she began moving her hand up his spine, along every muscle on his back. But she didn't just brush past. Starting at the bottom and all the way up to the area of the shoulder muscle that seemed to deliver the most pleasure to him, she began to knead the skin, softly at first, then with an increasing push. Massaging into his muscle with great care. "Too hard, my love?" He grunted slightly, then panted out sharp air briefly followed by a chill down his body. "No...harder," he pushed out while clutching her closer to him. With each time her fingers pressed into his back, their bodies rolled against each other, with every deep circle of her hand, increasing each time in speed and pressure, his legs and hips pressed more to hers, separating and coming back, their bodies rocking together against each other in an overwhelming rush. His eyes were half open, her breathing unsteady and his held, and his lips now unable to hold hers as if they had been frozen, still and agape.

His eyes fluttered and several of the sharpest vocal intakes of breath followed by a holding of it as if it were all building up to a release with each move of pressure from her hands, then finally filtered out with a single clenched gasp of vocality, as if it were a noise pent up until this moment of everything felt all at once, now all in a sudden audible release after several gulps and whispered gasping utterances of what seemed like a search for air and release of the fire in his veins as warmly shaking breath shook his whole frame in what she had come to know from when she did the same. This was the moment of all that was pent up, the highest smiling moment of joy, passion, pureness, deserved pleasure, burning and freezing over love, the peak of it all built up into these moments as he gave the strongest shudder that had yet rolled through his body with this noise made of hardly used breath; then, all at once, he went practically limp in her arms, breathing heavily in the softest manner possible, still whispering softly whimpered moans as he regained himself, his frame held to hers, his head slumped to her chest where he rested, his eyes fluttering closed while she felt his exhalations on the skin even below her collar bone. "Shhh..." she whispered, blowing onto the top of his head as soft as possible, trying to regain her own stillness, silently shaking and shivering. He clung to her with all the power he had left, the skin of her back warm beneath his fingertips, lulling him into sleep from pleasurable exhaustion. She held his head to her chest so he could feel the rhythmic up and down of her form he lay against, hear her heart beat hardly normal by his cause as she petted a trembling hand along his head, caressing his hair to sooth them both.

"Buttercup, love?" he mumbled into her skin. "Hm?" "Stay," he exhaled.

His eyes, his brilliant eyes, then flashed up to hers. "It's still so cold out, I would hate for anything to happen to you knowing I could have stopped it," he said.. Those eyes were melting her and leaving her tongue heavy in her mouth and the breath in her lungs fight to recall how to get out, as with his words he ran the hand of his right arm all along her left up to the shoulder, then down into her nightdress again to the warm skin on her back. "You really must stay here. I'm afraid there isn't much choice. I believe now it is my job to protect you and make you as comfortable as possible." He assured her, while caressing the sensitive skin, causing even his finger tips to tingle. "I believe you are right. I will leave before dusk, no one will know. And then we will have the day. But now we have the night. And now we will have every night." He smiled at the thought as his hand left her back only for a moment to brush the hair behind her ear (another simple, favorite touch of hers), and to pull the warm wool blanket to their shoulders. His hand then returned to her, cradling her close to his chest under their own little covering, helping them share their warmth and increase familiarity with each other The small bed, as well, lending a welcomed lack of space in their yearning for the closest proximity. Their legs laced through each other and, as the warm comfort over whelmed them, she managed one last soft breath of a sentence, careful not to speak to loudly, for fear of wondering if it may touch upon the perfect world they had created in this imagined, blessed hovel beneath the sheets while floating in the sky of the rooms reality and living in the coziness of its fantasy.

Wrapped in the pleasance of the blankets above them and of their arms around them, the last thing they were aware of was the scent, the feel, the warmth of the one they were holding so absolutely onto. And in those last few seconds of conciseness, they slipped into a place half between sleep and awake, half between dream and the real world. And, before they blacked out entirely, realized simultaneously what familiarity that place held. It was the familiarity of home.


End file.
